Cardboard Memories
by Sheamaru
Summary: Edgeworth has been back from his studies abroad for a few months, relentlessly cleaning the Wright Anything Agency. While finally tackling the 'bedroom' he finds something from the past that inspires a few memories. Phoenix/Edgeworth : AJ Timeline
1. 1

**Series/Disclaimer:** Phoenix Wright/Gyakuen Saiban which I do not own.  
**Pairing(s):** Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgeworth (Ryuuichi Naruhodo/Reiji Mitsurugi)  
**Warning(s):** None.

**Author's Note:** Lawlz. New fiction. It's already finished, typed, and edited. But I'm uploading it throughout the next three days so the last part will be uploaded on my birthday. Because I dig effects like that.

Anyway. Yeah. New Miles/Phoenix one. I'm hooked on that pairing lately. Partially because it's epic - mostly because I'm in a roleplay with Natalie that effects my thoughts. But either way, I'm writing stuff for them lots at the moment. So expect some updates for them mixed in with the Daryan/Klavier ones.

This fanfiction takes place in (or a little after) the **Apollo Justice **timeline! Which means that unless you've played that game, probably all the way through, this will contain spoilers. Anyway! Enjoy!

--

Four months he had been back in the country. Three of those months had been spent cleaning the Wright Anything Agency; and yet he'd made no progress. It wasn't entirely true – the main office was considerably lacking in magician's props then it had been. Trucy was astoundingly complacent with his organization and put all her props away every night after returning from the Wonder Bar. It was Wright who seemed less inclined to put his things away properly. Though, for all intents and purposes, this seemed due more to distraction rather than legitimate attempts to deter him.

But the main office looked considerably neater now so upon hanging his jacket in the hall closet, he took his first steps into the back office. He was immediately discouraged by the sight of two cots placed in the center of the floor, one sloppily made and the other untouched. It had occurred to him more than once by now to have Phoenix and Trucy move in with him but it wasn't set so firmly in place before he saw the pitiful bedroom the two shared. The second the moment felt right he would insist and the argument that may follow didn't matter.

This was simply no place to raise a teenage daughter.

Edgeworth started by making both beds and then pushing them to the corner for the sake of breathing room. Next he opened the window, allowing the delicate and slightly chilled spring hair to circulate. Within those two acts he was already feeling better about the situation.

Smokey gray eyes fell on a slightly ajar door that had probably been a coat closet but had been upgraded to a joint storage space for the two. Sure enough, the light revealed several of Trucy's dresses and Phoenix's meager and mismatched outfits, consisting mostly of sweat-pants and shirts. He sighed, half defeated, and proceeded to remove the hangers and lay the clothes over his arm. With nine dresses, two of which were red and too small and four of which were the right color but too large, a pair of old jeans that no longer fit Phoenix, three pairs of sweat-pants, and two sweat-shirts over his arm Edgeworth left the closet. He frowned slightly at the clothes he laid on Phoenix's bed before turning to Trucy's dresses.

Three of them had been modified to fit her current height and form, not including the one she'd worn to school that morning. Judging by the size, he could only assume that the red – which looked more like a dark salmon, really – were from her pre-teen days. He glanced around the room for an unused box but found the search quite hopeless. He considered trying to rearrange things and make one empty but there was limited room and all of them within his immediate sight were full. Maybe the closet. Deciding there was no harm in trying he back tracked, peering into the small space and scanning the floors for a suitable box.

Back in the corner, kicked haphazardly out of sight, was what he sought. Upon picking it up it felt light enough that he was sure he could fit the old clothes in it. Leaving the closet, he set it on Phoenix's bed and removed the lid but found that the contents caused him to hesitate and eventually sit down, shifting it into his lap for closer inspection.

Gently he lifted the familiar blue suit jacket out of its confines. The care put into folding it had been minimal but it was mostly spared of wrinkles. He set the box aside to lay the jacket across his lap, noticing the chill even through the material of his pants. His fingers brushed the buttons on the sleeves and a slight coldness ran through him that made his brow furrow. How many times had he stood so near Phoenix when he was wearing this jacket? Never before had it felt so void of life.

As he ran his hand over the material in a vain attempt to smooth it, he recalled the first time he had been close enough to feel the attorney's warmth through it. His hand pressed against the left lapel, remembering the faint feeling of the other's heartbeat as it pushed through bone, muscle, and skin to make its presence known. The feel of his chest heaving softly with laughter at Edgeworth's initial surprise at being pulled so close out of the blue. But that heat stood out more than anything else; that undeniable and natural warmth that he had was as vivid in his memory as if it had happened that afternoon.

However, the material under his hand was cold and as he slid his palm away, he noticed the small hole left there. Even though it was small, it was parted the material like a gaping wound that couldn't be stitched closed. Without that badge there it was painfully obvious, a mark for the entire world to see. It was almost pathetic, really, but that small golden decoration had symbolized all Wright's work and passion. Now, that hole stood with its own symbolism but for the emptiness of his disbarment. He was practically wearing a sign to the world that had been pinned there like a note on a child's shirt when they're sent him for atrocious behavior at school.

_It's no wonder he tucked it away_, Edgeworth mused, running his hand under the lapel as if confirming its existence by seeing a small part of his skin through the hole. His lips pulled into a hard frown and he removed it, going back to smoothing it out. The effort was pointless; he knew it, yet the action proved a decent proxy for his restlessness. He'd quite suddenly found himself inexplicably irritated.

His eyes fell back to the box, now unsurprised at finding the remaining pieces of the ensemble hidden inside. The red tie and white dress shirt were arranged with just slightly more order than the jacket had been. He found as he delved further into the box that the farther inside an item was the neater it had been folded. His theory would have been easier to confirm with more clothing, as the box contained only four articles of clothing and a pair of shoes. But he was willing to bed that Phoenix had began to lose his patience throughout the ordeal of tucking the suit inside.

After retrieving the shirt he stood up, turning to lay the suit where he had been on the bed. Putting it back in the box was entirely out of the question; he'd resolved that as he picked up the tie. It was smooth in his hands and he felt the memories flood to his fingertips as if he had just opened a photo album. The mornings he had spent trying it as Phoenix brushed his teeth, having woken up to find he had a half hour to get to a courthouse that was twenty minutes away. Untying it later that day after arms already encircled his waist and he was held close enough that Phoenix's warm breath brushed his forehead while he recounted his day. Sometimes he tugged at it, desperate to expose more of his skin as a small battle between their mouths stole part of his attention.

His eyes fell on the pair of old jeans that would suffice for little more than scrap material now. He tugged them from their comfortable spot on the hanger and let them fall to the floor. Judging that it was suitable enough, he picked up the blue pants and folded them neatly. Although Phoenix's latest choices of attire made him look quite dumpy, he hadn't put on much weight in the past seven years. If anything, Edgeworth would have guessed that he lost a few pounds. Holding up the pants, he didn't doubt for a minute that they would still fit. He hung them evenly over the bar and briefly flicked his eyes towards the closet. Reaching up, without too much stretching, he managed to hook it on the top of the open door.

The white dress shirt was soft under his fingers. He lifted it easily and drape it over his arm as he unfixed each button. It too carried memories that his mind was quick to resurface whether or not Edgeworth cared to think of them. His own laughter, embedded in the thought, caused a small smile to form. For the third time Phoenix had managed to miss a button in his distracted state, his mind more concerned with the trial itself than the problem at hand. His hair was still wet from his shower and hung, without gel yet not entirely void of some spikes, with some stray strands in his face. Edgeworth chuckled at his incorrigibility, walking over to take care of the task himself.

He replied to Phoenix's unease with calm absolution, eyes flicking up once he had finished to find a brown gaze settling on him. It was not completely shocked by his explanations but seemed more surprised with the ease he was able to recite them. But it only rested on him for a few seconds before thankful lips found his own. Such impulses had come to be anticipated form him, though, and the prosecutor was not left standing in a confused haze that time.

_But things have changed_, he noted and proceeded to button the shirt around the hanger, _He's grown out of those impulses. _

The statement was only lightly touched with regret and it was hard to where exactly it was directed anyway. Wright had, indeed, grown since that time and while some changed were less favorable the acquired maturity was not. There was a reassuring comfort in their relationship since his return, one that transcended the physical aspects that ruled their younger selves. Rendezvous weren't limited to courtroom passes that became intimate and he now sought Phoenix out not because of some hormonally driven desire but because he wanted company. A contented silence could rise between them that wasn't awkward with thoughts of who should make the 'first move'. They could talk and lay together on the couch without the underlying sense that they should have been 'doing something'.

It was a connection now, a bond far less fleeting than they had before. If anything his regret stemmed from his own distance for all the years. The lingering questions of if his apathy could have been avoided hung over his head like a personal Ghost of Christmas Past. Some days he wondered if he might have been able to prevent it. Not the disbarment but the change in Phoenix because of it. Would he have handled it better were he not standing alone?

Granted, the bond was weak now due to jaded experiences of both parties over the past few years and it was hard to call what they had an 'intimate' knowledge of each other. There was some strain that was brought out by certain situations and the new attitude that Phoenix had adopted was not one he found particularly attractive. The Phoenix he had left was warm and passionate about everything that he did, even if it didn't always have a connection to the law. But the one he found on his return was more like a walking grave. Not even a corpse, simply a mound of cold dirt like that thrown into a new cemetery hole. He spoke darkly to avoid true sentiments and had locked away those feelings that Edgeworth assumed to be impossible to stifle. It was strange and foreign but…he refused to believe that Phoenix was as dead as he wanted everyone to believe.

The attempt may very well have been useless but he had decided that trying to bring back the old Phoenix Wright would only crash and burn. His focus couldn't afford to lie in the past; if he wanted to make any progress then he had to worry about _now_. Constantly comparing him to the one he remembered would lead to absolutely nothing except frustration and pain; probably for both of them. But he owed Wright the effort…after all, it was him who had forced the weight of these useless emotions back onto him after that court case.

His hand fell away from the shirt slowly, his mind unwilling to part with the memory that it believed only contact could maintain. But he shook his head at his own foolishness and tugged the tie from off his shoulder to drape it over the neatly adjusted collar. Turning, he retrieved the final article - the jacket - from the bed and hooked it over the shirt. His fingers quickly addressed the buttons and tugged on the bottom softly to make it hang right. Instantly he resume uselessly trying to smooth out the wrinkles before making his hands stay down at his sides and he stepped back to scan over it once more.

Though the wrinkles wouldn't come out without an iron and the tie only hung there without a neck to be secured around, he was satisfied enough to return to his original task; a smile lifted lightly at the edges of his lips.


	2. 2

**Series/Disclaimer:** Phoenix Wright/Gyakuen Saiban which I don't own. Unfortunately. Or I would just establish this pairing and be done with it.  
**Pairing:** Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright (Reiji Mitsurugi/Ryuuichi Naruhodo)  
**Warning(s):** Noooone. I'm writing so innocently.

**Author's Note:** Ack! I was totally supposed to upload this part yesterday but I drew many blanks because I have a friend over and she's very distracting. What with her BuddyPoke on myspace.

Anyway, yes, so, I'm uploading the third and final part of this right after I finish here. Which I'm going to do now. LAWLZ. BRB.

--

Edgeworth was reading from a forgotten law book he'd found on one of the shelves when Phoenix returned. Trucy looked up from the floor where her homework was spread and a broad smile lit up her features, "Welcome back, Daddy!"

"How is the homework going?" he asked, a smile curving on his lips at the welcome.

"Fine," she replied while kicking her legs, "Mr. Edgeworth helped so I'm almost done."

He laughed a bit, moving past the back of the couch towards the office they used for a bedroom, "I trust it wasn't too difficult."

"Just some long division," Edgeworth confirmed, pulling his eyes away from the words to follow the other's movement.

The statement wasn't graced with a response as the man disappeared beyond the doorway as though he knew where Edgeworth had focused today's cleaning. His attention fell back to the text while room returned to the silence it had been supporting effortlessly before Phoenix's return. A slight unease had constricted around his lungs, waiting for the inevitable response that would be brought on by leaving the suit in plain sight. He couldn't completely gauge what Phoenix's reaction would be but he had imagined several outcomes when wondering whether or not to leave it out. His thoughts were disrupted by Trucy's voice, "Do you think he'll like it, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Edgeworth." Phoenix's monotone nearly overlapped Trucy's excited question and both turned towards the open door. Calmly, Edgeworth closed the book and returned it to its proper place as he retreated to the office.

"We'll see," he said in soft answer to Trucy before stepping beyond the doorway.

Wright stood halfway between the door and the gaping closet. The blue suit was right where he had left it and even from behind he could tell where those brown eyes had settled. He moved forward, his presence undoubtedly known despite the other's failure to acknowledge it. A wry and bitter smile was visible even after he tilted his head down to hide his eyes in the hat's shadow. Edgeworth gave up trying to make an expression from it and instead looked to the suit himself.

"Was this your goal then?" There was undeniable room for tension in the statement but he didn't use an inch of it. His entire stance was set in unwavering stone and the prosecutor couldn't make anything of it.

"Hardly, Wright," he replied with an equal measure of nonchalant, "I just discovered it in my cleaning. The rest of the room is testament to that."

"I hadn't noticed," he said, looking around the room to survey the changes though his interest clearly hadn't shifted.

With such limited space, Edgeworth hadn't been able to do much. The floor had been cleaned of spare papers, props, and grape juice bottles so it was visible again. Trucy's bed was pressed to one side of the window with Phoenix's on the other. Both were neatly made and a small pillow decorated with the four card suits sat on Trucy's bed. She had been thrilled when she came home to find it as though it had never been lost.

"I didn't do this with malicious intent," Edgeworth frowned, now pinpointing the reason it felt like a needle was stabbing the back of his neck relentlessly.

"No one's accusing you," he said and moved forward. The movement made him look quite like a statue coming to life from the corner of his eye. But he was sure even a statue would have had an expression of more liveliness than Phoenix was managing. Edgeworth was sure he saw the most subtle shift of Phoenix's arm, as though he had considered reaching out to touch it, but the idea was revoked and he fell still again.

"It's difficult to tell that based on your voice alone," he noted, feeling a burning resentment at the foreign urge to defend himself.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled, tilting his head as though he were considering a proposal - but the action echoed more as a gesture of mocking, "You aren't the first one to bring it up." "No," Edgeworth muttered lowly, "I wouldn't imagine I am."

"Why did you move it?" It was abrupt in timing and tone, so much so that Edgeworth was caught off guard and unsure of how to respond. He crossed his arms loosely in front of him he searched for an answer, tilting his head slightly as though it would help the words slide from the darker edges of his mind and into place. All of his scenarios had involved this question but he still hadn't been able to come up with a decent, or truthful, answer to it.

"Suits don't belong in boxes, Wright," he explained as if it were the most basic law of man.

"Suits that are worn," he pointed out, "There's no point in hanging something up that you never wear."

"That would hold more bearing had you not had a pair of jeans hanging in there that would certainly never fit you again."

"It was a goal," Phoenix said, his voice lifting to that empty amusement that seemed to be the only other 'emotion' he could manage.

"One you could never achieve, I assure you," he said, closing his eyes in the hope that blocking Phoenix from his sight might relieve some of the agitation that forced his muscles to tighten, "Is that all?"

"Could you close the door?"

"Why?"

"I think our little eavesdropper has filled her quota for the day."

Edgeworth quirked a brow before turning to cross over to the door and peered out it into the main office. Trucy was just settling herself back onto the floor when he saw her and she looked back as though sensing that she had been caught. Smiling in mild embarrassment she gave a half wave which he just shook his head in reply to and pulled the door closed.

Phoenix had taken a seat on the bed when he returned, his hands out of his pockets and leaning his weight forward on his legs. That same sour smile had returned to his features with additional distortion as the shadow from his beanie spread further down his face, "Why did you move it, Edgeworth?"

He briefly considered repeating his previous answer but the idea was discarded as a petty sort of childishness. The notion wasn't easy because he lacked a 'real' answer to the question and he hated that feeling of vague inability. Pathetically, he couldn't even think of a dishonest or rambling answer Phoenix may have _wanted_ to hear. Not that he would have given it even if he could have but it was the principle that mattered. Usually he could at least come up with an _unfavorable_ answer if nothing else.

"What explanation do I owe you for such a trivial action?"

"It's my suit." It sounded like perfect reasoning only because Phoenix's apathetic voice left no hole to consider; holes that emotion often made obvious. He was able to answer instantly, nearly before the question even the other's lips, but with something to go on Edgeworth could be just as quick.

"You gave it up," Edgeworth argued with indisputable composure, "It may as well have become an article to be sold at a garage sale the instant you put that lid over it."

The additional words were probably unnecessary measure more for himself than Wright. The emotion he displayed after the words 'you gave it up' wasn't shock but the smile had slipped away to be replaced with consideration.

"'Gave it up'…?" he chuckled but it was so empty that it may as well have been left out, "You're right, Edgeworth. Something about being disbarred and becoming a father probably had a little to do with it."

"Don't do this, Wright," he frowned, crossing his arms in subconscious acknowledgment of his sudden feeling of exposure.

"Do what, exactly?"

"Play this pointless game of yours that you've been insisting on since I arrived!" He raised his voice but it was impossible to label it a true _yell _because it was too together. There was emotion behind it but it wasn't real fury or rage, "This game where you force me into a corner to make me realize some fictitious hopelessness so you can return to your excuses and apathy."

"You think I'm playing a game?" his voice briefly brushed off the thick layers of emotionless smog to sound annoyed at the suggestion, "I'm not trying to make you _realize _anything. I want you to stop trying to do what Godot and Franziska did."

"And what's that?"

"Lecturing me like this is a phase I need to grow out of," he stood, "Acting like if you throw enough words and guilt at me I'll snap out of it. This isn't a _fad, _Edgeworth. It's my life. And this?" He gestured to the suit, "This isn't. Not anymore."

Just then something struck Edgeworth hard in the stomach. He almost wondered if Phoenix had punched him but the ex-attorney just remained standing with his hands at his sides. The cold feeling of nausea made his throat ache and he was sure only an earthquake could have produced such a similar effect. A snake of painful nostalgia constricted around his head and he knew he couldn't stand in this office for another minute. Moving quickly, acting as though he had predicted a tragic accident that would cause this building to come down on them, he lifted the hanger from its resting place and headed towards the door.

"Where are you going with it?" Phoenix asked, shuffling after him as that brief match of emotion was dropped into the black pool of impassiveness.

He pulled open the door and maintained brisk strides as he left the room. "Home, Wright," he said, finding that his throat was trying to close prematurely around the words.

"Mr. Edgeworth?" Trucy got to her feet as the two men left the office but it quite seemed that she was lost beyond that point.

"What good will it do there?" Phoenix asked, pausing near the far end of the couch. Edgeworth struggled to pull his jacket until Trucy ran over and took the suit for him to make the task easier.

"What good does it do here?" he questioned back with a subtle venom in his voice before turning to the girl holding the suit out to him again, "Thank you, Trucy."

"You're leaving?" her eyes flicked between Edgeworth and Phoenix, "What happened?"

"Your father is…upset about the surprise, that's all," he explained, half wishing he could muster a kinder tone towards the girl. She didn't deserve any devastation or troubled thoughts for his dispute with Wright.

"Answer the question, Edgeworth."

The prosecutor lifted his narrowed eyes, wrapping an arm briefly around Trucy's shoulders after hers encircled his middle.

"You're not leaving the country again, are you?" Another invisible blow to his stomach nearly made him choke on his lack of air. Only four months and she was attached enough to be troubled by that? Not only that but Phoenix had easily painted such a fleeting image of him in her mind that she thought whenever he left he wasn't coming back.

"No, just back to my house," he confirmed, forcing his voice to be convincing and calm.

"Why don't you go finish your homework in the office, Trucy?" Phoenix suggested, sensing an entirely new argument in the air.

"Okay, Daddy," she said and went back to gather up her things. She threw her arms briefly around Phoenix before heading into the office, "Don't be really mean to each other. I'll be listening!" She planted her hands on her hips before nudging the door closed with her foot.

He waited for the click before twisting his neck back towards Edgeworth only to find himself already faced with the prosecutor's back, "Stop playing the running game."

"There's nothing left to discuss," Edgeworth kept his voice low in the hopes it would mask the constriction of his throat. He was choking on his words as though he were allergic to them.

"What's the point of taking it?"

"There isn't one, Wright," he replied firmly, turning to place his betrayed gaze on the one who earned it, "But I refuse to let you hide it away in some disgusting box in the back of your closet simply because the only memories of it you can conjure are ones of despair."

"Fancy words, Miles, but that isn't a reason," his voice was hard but not with any one feeling. It was solid like a palpable stone in his hand; and just as cold.

He held the suit close but with subtle defensiveness, as though he truly thought Phoenix would attempt to steal it back. Turning again made him feel suddenly tired and his hand closed around the door knob with a sigh that reciprocated it, "Good night." With his eyes closed he stepped out into the cool spring air and pulled the door closed behind him.


	3. 3

**Series/Disclaimer:** Phoenix Wright/Gyakuen Saiban, which I don't own.  
**Pairing:** Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright (Reiji Mitsurugi/Ryuuichi Naruhodo)  
**Warning(s):** None.

**Author's Note:** I thought this segment was pretty cute. And self explanatory. So...

LAWLZ. DONE.

--

A week had passed before Edgeworth even considered stopping by the Wright Anything Agency again. He filled the empty time slots that had opened with taking Pess for walks and doing some financial research on opening his own law firm. The fact that his name was still acknowledged with such regard in the Prosecutor's Office was certainly encouraging enough. He had more than sufficient funds and fully intended to run it from his own home. If the growth proved to be sufficient, maybe then he would consider an office.

But for now he had taken a break and sat on the couch in his living room. Pess was partially curled across his lap and a hand absently brushed along her coat to keep her comfortably asleep. His other arm was propped up on the couch, palm covering his face. A book he had been attempting to read sat open on the table beside him, a thin pair of reading glasses pressed against the spine. The tea in his mug had cooled to a drinkable temperature but it too was overlooked in exchange for thoughts that he had been trying to hide behind calculating numbers and walks in the cold spring air.

The memory of Wright's denouncement of his previous life had been echoing in his mind every minute of those seven days. Masochistic tendencies in him must have surfaced because every time they struck something embedded deep inside him yet he couldn't stop. It hadn't taken him two hours within the time he'd returned home that night to figure out why. Phoenix may as well have told him to go back to Germany within those four words. _This isn't. Not anymore._ Seven years ago he would have easily attributed it to a slip of the tongue, but now? He faced a seemingly secure Wright…and it was one that wanted nothing to do with his attorney days.

The knife that had been sticking out of him twisted in realization that he had been the now black heart of it. Phoenix had taken up this profession because of him and even if he wasn't the reason for staying with it for so long he was still the _cause_. If he had never acted the way he had, Wright wouldn't have become an attorney. He could have been spared that incident and the pain that had forced this outcome. He wanted to brush it off as a mere bump, to think that everything before it made up for the fact, but the guilt didn't ease.

The slight burning in his throat had spread to his eyes before he'd noticed what bodily effects the consideration was reaping. He was well aware of the searing sting that spread from the wound Wright's words had created yet only now did the poison earn a reaction. He was foolishly guilt-ridden for Wright's compulsiveness on his behalf; he was devastated to think it was beyond hope; he was outraged that Phoenix would dare saddle him with these overbearing emotions just to be rid of his within years that seemed too short; he regretted the time he had spent abroad, taking that openness for granted. There was no point in dwelling in those past-afflicted feelings yet he accepted that they needed to be faced to be overcome.

The thought that Phoenix had taught him that lesson as well left a sardonically bitter taste on his tongue.

He was wiping away a stray line of moisture from his cheek when Pess lifted her head abruptly. Within seconds her entire body had left the warmth of his lap and he felt a faint stiffness as she went through the usual motions suggesting a visitor. Sure enough a light knocking fell on his door and she ran off with a jingle of her dog-tags. Vision blurred, Edgeworth swallowed and slid from the couch to his feet to follower her, finding her in front of the entranceway waiting for him to let them in.

He cleared his throat softly, urging the burn it was coated with to disappear as he subtly peered through the glass embedded in the wood. His hand went up to wipe at his eyes, careful not to rub at them too much as to avoid turning them red. He caught the distorted outline of a blue top hat and sighed, hand pressing to his forehead for a minute and running his fingers briefly through his hair to collect the scattered fragments of his composure. When he opened the door her hand had been poised to try knocking again.

"Trucy." He almost flinched at how strangled the world felt in his throat.

"Oh! Hi, Mr. Edgeworth," she smiled, not seeming to notice what seemed like an obvious defect in his normal appearance. Her hands tucked themselves under her cape behind her and she beamed. After a few seconds, Edgeworth took it upon himself to fill the silence.

"Good evening," he said with a small smile he hoped didn't appear as strained as it felt, "To what do I owe this visit?"

She hesitated as though she forgot her reason or, more likely by Edgeworth's estimation, never had one she was willing to share. But a smile signified the light bulb in her head coming to life and she bounced between the ball and heels of her feet, "I haven't seen you in a while and I wanted to check up on you."

Edgeworth, though mildly amused at the idea that a fifteen-year-old was 'checking up' on him, frowned, "You walked all the way out here, after dark, by yourself?"

She stopped bouncing and looked quite like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Her eyes dropped, though not before Edgeworth noticed them flick to the left. He closed his eyes with a sigh, hand tensing on the door handle he still held. Stepping to the side he kept it open and gestured with his free hand, "Come in. Both of you."

Pess stood up excitedly as the Wrights were admitted. Trucy immediately dropped to one knee to praise the dog's cute charm. The purebred knew better than to jump up on people so she ran around them excitedly, learning Trucy's scent and reacquainting herself with Phoenix's. Only then did she jump up, placing her paws on his thighs in search of attention. She knew it was okay when she had already gotten permission and Edgeworth didn't scold her.

"Hey, girl," Phoenix said, a large hand ruffling the fur behind her ears, "You still remember me?"

The prosecutor restrained a biting comment and tucked his hands into the pockets of the suit pants he had yet changed out of. He watched with passive gray eyes as she allowed a small, excited bark before jumping down and hurrying back over to Trucy. Why bother with something you'd already seen so many times when something new was around to investigate?

"C'mon…" Trucy trailed off, looking up at Edgeworth.

"Pess," he said, filling in the imaginary blank.

"C'mon, Pess! Let's let Daddy and Mr. Edgeworth talk," she giggled at the agreeing bark, "You can show me around."

"I don't-" Edgeworth started but was left with no one listening as the pair ran off, quite content to start their adventures through his house. He sighed, crossing his arms against his stomach and turning back to Phoenix.

"Having your teenage daughter walk all the way out here just to get me to open my door?" He asked, his voice hardly lifting enough to make a question of it, "Aren't last resorts meant to be used when previous attempts have failed?"

"It was her idea," he used words of explanation but his tone left no room for question, "She thought you lied about leaving the country and wanted to make sure herself."

He could have said the same words with an ounce of emotion or different words with total apathy but because he said _those _words with such blatant disregard, Edgeworth turned his face away and dug his fingers into his arms. "I see."

Phoenix didn't notice the discomfort and dejection the words had brought, or didn't care, "Mind if I sit? It's been a while since I walked this far."

He didn't respond but turned in such a gesture that the words '_follow me_' may as well have appeared over his head. They retreated to the living room and Edgeworth migrated to the side table while Phoenix lazily examined his surroundings and took a seat.

The prosecutor's hand found the forgotten book that sat beside now cold tea and lifted his glasses before closing it. He extracted a small, black case from the open drawer and tucked them safely inside before he eased it closed.

"You wear glasses now?"

"Only for reading."

"Near-sighted?"

"This isn't why you walked all the way here-"

"No, far-sighted, right?"

"Wright-"

"I always forget which is-"

The drawer snapped shut, harmless, yet it had the same effect as if a gunshot had rang out through the room. Edgeworth stood with his hands at his sides, eyes focused on the book as though it held all his answers but he was unable to open it.

"Why did you come here?" he filled the space before Phoenix could use it to make some other off-hand comment.

"You don't let me play my 'games', I don't let you play yours." Simple. Calm. Without resentment or spite. Like it was a mutual rule in some unwritten handbook that he was reminding Edgeworth of.

"Your playing just by being here, Wright." He thought of lifting his head, of looking at him, but something stopped him.

"Games are more fun when someone stands a chance of winning, Miles." There it was, that damnable lift that implied that this entire conversation was just _amusing _him. He knew now why he hadn't looked; because if he had then he would have seen that coy smirk. The smirk that seemed to linger on his features even when his face was completely neutral. The one that screamed '_You can't hurt me now because there's nothing _left _to hurt._' It didn't phase him. Nothing phased him.

If he'd seen that smirk, Edgeworth was sure he might have thrown the nearby lamp at him no matter how irrational and embarrassing the motion would be in hindsight.

Phoenix was watching him, almost wishing Edgeworth would look at him yet feeling a slight unsure tightening in his abdomen that let him know he wasn't positive he could stand that unreadable look focused solely on him. "Who wins in yours?"

"I-" _I'd rather us both be losers than relinquish victory to you? _Edgeworth was unclear in his own thoughts but he _knew _that wasn't what he meant. It wasn't what he wanted. "And in yours? It's set up so only you can be the victor."

"That's not true, even if this 'game' of mine did exist," he leaned back into the couch, "Everyone just shows up with a losing attitude."

"I assume you're referring to your little 'this isn't a phase' speech?" he said, continuing without need for a verbal confirmation, "Then tell me why it is I still lose."

"I think the answer is a bit too obvious for that to be a real question."

Edgeworth suddenly chuckled but the bitterness that should have been there only danced fleetingly along the edges of it. This laugh seemed amused…Phoenix recognized it from his days in court. He could almost picture the prosecutor across from him, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head with that exact chuckle. The one that he never liked because it meant Edgeworth knew something he didn't. It unearthed a familiar tension in his shoulders.

"Nothing here, nothing we've discussed, has been obvious. Save for your stubborn determination in believing generalities." His voice was back to that firm resolve; '_I have the upper hand here_' was what Phoenix heard.

"Generalities?"

"That everyone from your past only wants you to return to your former self." Simple. Plain. The reminder of a subtext in a rule that Phoenix had overlooked or ignored.

He stood but his posture remained unfazed despite an increased hardness in his eyes, "You're saying that isn't what your doing." It wasn't a question but it was a statement expecting explanation or, at the very least, confirmation.

"I haven't been from the moment I returned." Gray eyes finally settled on Phoenix's brown and Edgeworth turned more completely.

"And the suit," he stated flatly, "You're saying it wasn't a personal attempt in hopes of the same outcome Godot and Franziska wanted."

"And what outcome would that be?"

"Playing the fool doesn't help your case, Edgeworth. You know that," he said. His hands slid out of his pockets to fist loosely at his sides, "They treated this like there's some second personality I've forgotten and once I'm reminded of enough of my past I'll snap out of it. Like _the real _Phoenix Wright, whatever that means, will wake up and run off, get his badge back and return to defending like the past seven years were a bad dream."

"And you believe that to be the reason I hung up your old suit?"

"Stop leading me with questions you already know the answer to. I've grown out of it," Phoenix said, his voice now twisted loosely with anger as he realized where this was heading, "Hanging that suit was your version of a lecture. The same intent with fewer words and greater chance of shock. _The real _Phoenix Wright isn't coming back-"

"-because he hasn't gone anywhere."

The sentence hung between them like an epiphany yet both men knew that to be the truth all along. Edgeworth's gaze was firm despite the short flicker of shock that he saw in Phoenix's eyes. The ex-attorney was the first to look away but it was Edgeworth who turned completely and gave him nothing but his backside. He could feel the tension in his shoulders reach such a peak that they shook subtly. It felt like it was as glaringly obvious as his strangled first words to Trucy had been but he was sure Phoenix wouldn't have been able to tell.

"Old Wright, new Wright, real Wright, fake Wright. Ace attorney Phoenix Wright, expert poker player Phoenix Wright - damn all the titles and adjectives placed before the fact! I could care less about who you were seven, eight, fifteen years ago, Phoenix, I really could." He brought an arm up to close his fingers around the material of his sleeve as if that alone could keep him grounded enough to continue, "I'm not here out of the hopes of reviving who you _were_, I came back because I'm concerned for who you are _now_. Not as any one title or occupation but simply as Phoenix Wright. I don't need to make you change for me to care. If you had to _earn _it then I wouldn't have come back at all. _You're _real, the person standing here _now _is real. Not the memory that stood in the courtroom."

"Edgeworth-"

"Let me finish." He waited, confirming Phoenix's silence and using the pause to gather his thoughts again before continuing, "It wasn't your clothes, your ridiculous hat, the unshaven hair on your jaw or that damnable monotone that unnerved me. Not once in all the years I've known you have your eyes been so expressionless, so empty, that I found myself putting actual thought into the idea of souls and wondering if the man standing before me had lost his."

The room fell into a vacuum of silence and Phoenix didn't try to speak right away. Edgeworth wasn't sure what gears were turning in his head or if they had even started, though he wondered with pensive hesitation. The chance seemed painfully high that Phoenix would just ignore the outburst - normally an action Edgeworth would have appreciated - and gone on insisting something that wasn't true. It might not have stung so achingly had it not felt more like Phoenix _wanted _to block him from his life. He vaguely recalled Franziska's voice over the phone telling him to return to the country while unease danced around the sharp edges of her voice.

_He needs you_ was laid, almost perfectly, over _He may not want you_.

"But maybe it's all foolish notion on my part," he thought aloud. His fingers tightened on his sleeve, "Go ahead and laugh."

There was movement behind him and he was quick to disregard it as Wright making his exit. His head fell softly against the heel of his hand, pressing it against his forehead to try and smother the growing headache. He stood in muteness, letting the room settle around him as though it had to adjust now that the vacancy of Wright's presence had distorted its balance. It almost felt like it was spinning with the attempt but he was sure that was all just in his own mind.

Turning to face the air where Phoenix had been standing he was suddenly stopped. His eyes could only partially make out the shoulder pressed against his, though slightly lower with the height difference. Arms encircling his middle kept him from twisting further and he briefly struggled to see Phoenix's face - but it wasn't a real struggle, more like the attempt to pull an object free before realizing it was just snagged on something else.

He opened his mouth to demand an explanation but a sudden awkwardness choked the words from him as though it were a real substance capable of flooding him. It wasn't unease or embarrassment, simply the effects of an unsaid sentence hanging above them after a line that had a double meaning. His head returned forward and he tried to reason if either of them had maintained control of the situation or if they had allowed it to ebb thickly into the floors and walls of his living room. Words floated around them in a useless fog as they both waited for the couch or side table to speak; some neutral third party that would arbitrate for them so neither had to risk what was engrained into their respective personalities.

Pride.

Apathy.

What would a piece of furniture care if its words should reveal some lingering doubts or ignite another argument between them?

The burden of remedy felt familiar on Edgewroth's shoulders and he knew Phoenix's impulsions had settled over the years so once he started he would be expected to finish. His hand lowered, resting against Phoenix's in a gesture that made the fingers twitch where they were clasped. He hoped it was only because of the stark contrast in their body temperatures but he hesitated, acutely aware of the reason even before he'd moved. _How long has it been?_

"Cold hands."

_Too long._

He sighed, "Wright-"

"I'm not avoiding it," he spoke up, his voice calm yet tainted slightly with irritation, likely at himself for not having come up with something before speaking. It was plain, but the arms around him made it seem almost surreal or vague; like Phoenix was rehearsing lines that he hadn't yet managed to get down.

He let Edgeworth's silence be the signature on an imaginary permission slip to continue.

"It's fine," he started, using the usual Wright tactic of making it up as he went, "if you want to keep the suit. I don't know why you want it but if an argument over it is enough to chase you away for a week then it's doing you more good than me."

_The suit isn't the reason I left, Wright._

"It wasn't my intention to outcast you with what I said."

Edgeworth's breathing paused for a minute but Wright's proximity made it too obvious. The arms tightening around him reminded him of it.

"Very astute of you," he mumbled in half-hearted praise of Phoenix's figuring it out.

"It took me a few days," he sounded amused but it was a hollow cheer. Edgeworth thought regret might have been more suitable than laughter and opened his mouth to say so but his lips had barely parted when Phoenix trudged on, "Seven years is a long time."

"…Indeed."

"You've always been pretty hard to read, too," he added as a footnote that was intended to either further explain his previous statement or try to formulate an excuse for it. Edgeworth couldn't tell which it was and he wasn't sure he cared.

"I prefer it that way." A testament to preferring he be the only one of the two of them to behave with such secrecy hung in the air, unsung. They let his words stand alone for a stretch of time that once again made the prosecutor feel like his couch had more of a hold on the situation than him. He decided to try again the task of catching sight of Phoenix's face behind him, "Your sense of mystery is terribly off in its timing, Wright. I've already seen the damage a lack of proper wardrobe has done."

The small dig passed through the air without tension. Phoenix even managed to chuckle and the feel of his broad chest shifting against his back caused a small smile of his own to form. He lowered his hands as the arms slipped away but he felt a lingering reluctance in them to let go completely. Edgeworth interpreted it, turning to place his hands against the worn material covering Phoenix's chest in subtle allowance of them to stay. Wordlessly they tightened in the curve of his lower back and the warmth that had settled along his back shifted to where they made contact on his front.

Their silence was comfortable and Edgeworth's gaze fell to his hand. He shifted it over the material to find the heartbeat in Wright's chest. It beat solidly and warmly against his hand, urging a feeling of nostalgia through him with each pulse. _Was I expecting it not to be there? _

"…Edgeworth?"

"Hm?" he looked up to find a brown gaze watching him as though he had been trying to get his attention for the past few minutes. He frowned, quite sure that Phoenix had only said his name once.

"I asked why you want to keep the suit."

He smiled and it was, for whatever reason, a tad coy, "I thought you didn't care, Wright."

"Humor me." He didn't try to deny what he'd said, his voice was strung between a request and a demand.

"Memories," he offered with tentative care, "Better ones than yours."

"Ah," Phoenix remarked, tilting his head down so that shadow was once again cast over his face and secretive smile. Edgeworth, for one, was not sure how he managed such a feat considering the lighting in his living room would not allow for such a shadow.

"But," he moved on, a hand going up to slide the hat off. Phoenix made a motion of following it with his neck to try and prevent it but Edgeworth's arm warranted more reach. The soft material stayed safely between his fingers after he slid it off and they tingled slightly with the feathering brush of black strands against his knuckles. He mimicked the action again with one hand, smoothing the hair back with little more success then he had managed with the suit's wrinkles a week ago.

The black mass was soft under his hand, still messily spiked despite the lack of hair gel, and Edgeworth realized he couldn't recall a time Phoenix wasn't spiking it back. Even when he was young it had the notion of forming such an endearing style…he supposed the hair gel was more Wright's way of controlling what was natural. They curled slightly against his fingers as he allowed his hands to stay there after a few more attempts and his eyes dropped back down to Phoenix whose smile now seemed less secretive and more…well, less secretive was a start.

"I'm not opposed to new ones."


End file.
